


Only One

by ever_enthralled



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuckolding, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Obsessive Behavior, Overstimulation, Rape Fantasy, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Swearing, Threesome - F/M/M, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_enthralled/pseuds/ever_enthralled
Summary: ‘Just friends’ just isn’t enough.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi/Reader
Comments: 39
Kudos: 257





	Only One

**Author's Note:**

> there will be two parts to this. also, a good portion of this takes place when characters are underage, but nothing super sexual happens until everyone's 18+. just a lot of pining.

You’re friends. Best friends. That’s it. 

Kei meets you when he’s very young–single digits young. This is back when Akiteru was still the coolest person he knew, before Yamaguchi, before middle blocking and international interest. This was childhood, and it was confusing. 

Because this little girl suddenly wanders into his life, all pigtails and missing teeth. You sit beside him in class and occasionally talk to him about crayons and kanji and, most importantly, dinosaurs. You prefer your own dolls, but you humor him, already so kind at such a young age. 

Kei is smitten. He doesn’t realize it at the time. All he knows is that he craves your attention, every bit of it. He doesn’t like it when you talk to other children and tries to occupy as much of your time as he can. 

His family is thrilled, glad he’s made such a good little friend. His mother thinks you’re just the most adorable thing, so polite and mature for your age for offering to help with dinner despite the fact you can barely see over the counters. Akiteru is amused by your attempts to keep up with conversation between “grown ups” (he’s only a few years older than you and Kei, but man, he sure dangles it over your heads). 

They don’t see anything out of the ordinary. They don’t see the signs. 

And, neither does Kei, really. He thinks this is normal. Almost everyone has a best friend, and you’re his only one. It makes sense that he’s so attached. It _makes sense_. 

But as you get older, it changes slightly. Grade 5 happens, and as budding preteens, Kei experiences his first rushes of hormones. He begins to notice things, like the way your hair falls over your shoulders and what your legs look like, the way you smell and how it makes him dizzy. He thinks… he thinks maybe this is what a crush feels like. But, he’s not sure, and honestly, he doesn’t want to think too hard on it. 

He also doesn’t want to think too hard on the fact that you’re beginning to catch other people’s eyes. Boys stare at you in class and in the hallways, and in grade 6, they start to ask you out. What can a twelve-year-old even do on a date, anyway? Kei doesn’t understand the appeal of going out in public with people you like, especially you. No, he’d much rather sit in his room, alone with you, not having to worry about other people getting bewitched by your smile or fantasizing about running fingers through your hair. When you’re alone, you’re all his. 

And, you’re so nice to him, so warm and inviting. You don’t mind the way he watches you. You don’t mind his random facts about the Jurassic era. You don’t mind when he corrects you. You don’t mind that he sits too close and brushes his knee against yours. You don’t mind _him_. 

Yamaguchi comes into the picture around then. Kei doesn’t think much of him. He’s one of those people that just lets life happen to him, but for some reason you seem to like him, so Kei tolerates him, even if he does scold the timid kid fairly often. 

“Be nice, Tsukki,” you tell him, a mild reprimand. 

He usually responds with a careless _tch_. Kei doesn’t like that you stand up for Yamaguchi. He doesn’t like that you pay attention to him. He misses when it was just you and him. Now you’re hardly ever alone. 

He adjusts accordingly, though, begins making a point of touching you in front of Yams. Leans against you during movies. Uses your lap as a pillow when he’s tired. And, you allow it. You rest your head on his shoulder or play with his hair. It sends shivers down Kei’s spine and leaves him feeling warm and content. You would never do this sort of thing with Yamaguchi. You’re not comfortable with him the way you are with Kei, and Kei takes immense pleasure in that. 

He learns of Akiteru’s lies and seeks comfort in your arms. Literally. You and Yams sit in his room while Kei rants and tries not to tear up and sniffle, but later, after the other boy leaves, Kei breaks further, hiccupping as he cries about how fucking _disappointed_ he is in his brother. 

“I’m not _ever_ playing volleyball again,” he tells you firmly, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes. 

You sigh and grab his hand, squeeze. “Don’t say that. I’d hate it if you did that. And besides, playing volleyball is about the only time you and Yamaguchi get along.”

“This isn’t about _Yamaguchi_ ,” Kei spits, and you recoil slightly, removing your hand from his, but he follows it, lacing your fingers together tightly. He looks at you with round eyes, can’t stop himself before blurting an awfully sincere, “You’re the _only_ person I can trust now.”

It causes you to you blush, an image that makes Kei temporarily forget every one of his problems because it’s just so delicious. He idly wonders if he’s supposed to have thoughts like this at the ripe age of twelve, blames it on hormones. 

Secondary school starts, and things get better and worse at the same time. The pros include he can touch you more. He either walks close behind you with a hand on the small of your back or ahead of you, fingers circling your wrist as he pulls you through the crowded hallways. He leans against your desk waiting for class to start, sits directly behind you and bats your hair back and forth when he’s bored. Sometimes your shoulders shake with quiet laughter, and it makes him giddy that he can amuse you in such a lackluster environment.

Per your request (and for literally no other reason), Kei plays on the middle school volleyball team. He’s alright, could be better if he put forth more effort, but his height makes up for his laziness. You attend every one of his games, even the ones that take place at other schools, and cheer him on in the stands, cupping hands around your mouth and shouting, _“Go, Tsukki!”_ The nickname annoys him when Yamaguchi uses it, but coming from you, it’s endearing. 

Cons of secondary school, unsurprisingly, include that green-haired fuck. Because it’s not just Kei’s games you’re watching, it’s Yamaguchi’s too. And, it’s not just Kei you’re screaming for, it’s Yamaguchi too. And it’s not just Kei slinging an arm around you after the match is over, it’s _Yamaguchi too_. Kei wraps around your waist while the other boy lays his stupid, sweaty limb over your shoulders. It’s infuriating, takes everything inside of Kei not to glare and tell Yams to _fuck off_. 

He doesn’t, though, because both you and Yamaguchi think Kei views him as a friend instead of competition. 

People start assuming you’re dating one or the other, but you deny it every time. “Just friends,” you say over and over. It pains Kei that you only see him in that way, but at least you don’t have feelings for the third wheel of your trio. Thank God.

***

You all get older and all get accepted into Karasuno. The Crows love you. Tanaka and Nishinoya hit on you incessantly, and it makes Kei’s blood boil. You are not theirs to flirt with. You are not theirs at all. You are _his his his_ –Kei’s territoriality seems to know no bounds. He’s constantly smoothing hair out of your face, brushing up against you, talking directly into your ear just so he has a reason to get unnecessarily close to you. He wants them to see, wants them to watch the way you let him settle his hands on your hips when you speak in hushed voices, the way you sit between his legs on the bench below his and lean between them, fuck, it drives him crazy but feels so, so good. He loves it. He loves you. He knows he does.

Kei’s mother still thinks it’s normal, asks him when he’s finally going to ask you out, just bothers him about his relationship status in general. She thinks what he’s feeling is natural, a crush or puppy love. 

At sixteen, Kei knows it’s not. He’s always been smart, perceptive, and while he may be emotionally constipated with everyone else, he isn’t with himself. He knows his mind well and eventually settles on exactly what this is: _obsession_. 

It isn’t healthy, but it’s happening. He’s fucking addicted to you, can’t get enough. He craves you all the time, gets cranky when you aren’t around as if going through withdrawal, and as soon as you join him once again, offering a grin that makes him weak at the knees, Kei beelines it for you. 

He wishes he could sweep you into his arms, lean down and kiss you. He wants to know what it would feel like to have your lips against his, to cradle your head in his hands and shove his tongue down your throat and push you up against a wall, wrap your legs around his waist and grind and fuc– 

You still put up with him, blush and smile softly when you catch him staring intently at you (which he does often). You still snuggle against him during movies and let him lay in your lap. Kei wonders if you know yet. He’s aware that he isn’t being subtle, but maybe the fact that he hasn’t actually pushed further or asked you out is working in his favor. Maybe you still think he’s innocent. 

Kei is anything but. 

And, someone catches on. 

His second year at Karasuno. Kei isn’t paying attention to his surroundings. They’re in the middle of a game, but he’s on the bench and gazing across the court to the stands. Even from a distance, he can see you, on your feet and clapping for his team. You’re stunning in Karasuno’s black and orange, one of Kei’s old jerseys actually, but tied into a knot at the bottom to fit you better. Kei wants to lick at that exposed strip of skin between the top and your jeans. The mere idea makes his mouth water. 

He is oblivious to the pair of eyes studying him, following his line of sight, and finding you in the crowd. They’ve been watching Kei for a while now–almost a year and a half. 

It’s when they win that it happens. Yams scores the final point with a fucking service ace that even Kei has to admire, and for the first time ever, when you rush onto the court with other students, you launch yourself at Yamaguchi before Kei. 

Every muscle in Kei’s body goes rigid, and bile rises in his throat. He sees red, has this incredible impulse to tear you away from the other boy, spit in his fucking face, then pull you out of the gymnasium by your hair, remind you who you belong to, who you’ve always belonged to, and god damnit, he can’t watch, can’t watch, can’t watch as that motherfucker lifts and spins you around, can’t stand the way your body looks pressed up against him, he has to get out of here before he does something reckless like _strangle_ Yamaguchi. 

Kei shoves his shit into his bag as quickly as humanly possible, knee-pads and water bottle and jacket, stiffens when he hears your melodic voice behind him, congratulating him: “You did so well, Tsukki!" 

He stands, grunts, "Obviously not as well as Yamaguchi,” then shoves past you, his sports bag slamming into you on his way and making you stumble to the side. 

“Wha–Tsukki!” You call, then switch to his first name when he doesn’t respond. _“Kei!"_

He gets as far as the gym exit before a firm hand lands on his shoulder, too big to be yours, and Kei rounds on whoever the fuck–

It’s Ukai, and he doesn’t look happy, scowling darkly with his jaw set. Fingers dig into Kei’s flesh, making it near impossible to shrug the shorter man off. 

Ukai’s voice is even rougher than usual when he speaks, low, conspiratorial, and very serious. "You need to watch yourself. There’s no reason you should ever be that disrespectful to a woman.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He figures his coach is referring to the bag ramming into your ribs. 

“Tsukishima,” Ukai presses. “I see the way you look at her. You’re like a damn dog–”

“Fuck you,” Kei spits, attempting to pull away again, but Ukai doesn’t relent. In fact, he brings his other hand up and fists it in Kei’s jersey, pulling the blond down to his level. 

_“Listen to me_. This behavior is toxic. You can’t get upset every time she talks to another guy. You don’t own her. It isn’t healthy.”

Kei glares at him, fists clenching at his sides. Of all the people to catch on and call him out, he didn’t expect Keishin Ukai. 

“You don’t know what’s going on between her and me.”

“I think I do, though. I know pining, Tsukki–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“And this isn’t pining. This is…” _Obsession_. “… What you’re doing is something else. It’s gotta stop. She isn’t your property. She’s a person.”

He finally lets go of Kei, does his best to smooth the new wrinkles from his shirt, and as he does, he actually threatens the taller boy. “If I ever see you get rough with her again, I’ll have you kicked off the team.”

Kei takes a step back, blinks at Ukai for a moment, then punches him right in the face. 

It gets him suspended from the team which, okay, he can understand that. He’s surprised the punishment isn’t actually more severe, but Ukai, despite sporting a purple bruise just under his left eye, assures the school Principal that, “It was just a bad day. Tensions were high, and I pushed him.” Then he glances at Kei, raises his eyebrows and adds, “We learned our lesson, right?”

Kei’s nostrils flare, but he nods to the man in agreement. It’s a lie–Kei would punch him again if given a reason, but he can lie low for now. 

He makes the best of a bad situation. Being suspended from both playing and practicing is actually something of a blessing because it gives him more time with you away from Yamaguchi. He apologizes for the way he treated you, holding your small hands in his and using the same line Ukai did, but he makes sure to sound sincere when he tells you, “It won’t ever happen again. I’m so, so sorry.”

In reality, it very well could happen again. The image of Yams holding you so close is still burned into Kei’s retinas, and if he ever has to witness something like that again, he could see himself hurting both of you. It’s a troubling line of thought, but it’s there, and Kei can’t deny it. 

He just feels so strongly for you. He wants to possess you because you’ve possessed him for so long. 

You forgive him, tell him you understand, then make an off-color joke about how you’d originally thought he was upset because of the attention you’d lavished on Yams. You’re too damn smart for your own good.

“I mean, it was annoying,” Kei admits. “But, it was just a hard day. Tough game.” They really had only won by the skin of their teeth. All thanks to Yamaguchi. 

The bitterness fades into the background, though, because now, for hours out of the day, Kei has you all to himself once again. You spend it studying in the library or bedrooms (you parents make you keep the door open, but Kei’s mother doesn’t seem to mind you two locking yourselves away, probably has the wrong idea, but that’s okay). The two of you see movies sometimes or go to the city and walk around. He watches as you flutter around different stores, buying little accessories, figurines, and silly plushes. You’re such a child sometimes. Kei loves it. Somehow, you still have this, this _purity_. 

One day, he’ll take it away, but for now, he’s satisfied just watching the way your eyes light up when he grabs a stuffed triceratops and makes it dance on a shelf. You giggle and take it from him, then do this–this _thing_ , this new habit, where you bury your face in his chest, nuzzle right up against his sternum so that he can feel your breath through his shirt. It’s painfully intimate and unbearably cute, and Kei sighs, then rests his chin on the top of your head, murmuring a quiet, “You’re so lame.”

“ _You_ are,” is your only rebuttal as you try to hide your smile. 

What he wouldn’t give to get your bottom lip between his teeth, to bite until it’s red and swollen. You’d whine for him to stop. You’d–

“Come on, butthead. I’m ready to go back home.”

“Tch,” Kei rolls his eyes, taking your hand and leading you to the checkout counter while mumbling, “If either one of us is a butthead, it’s definitely you.”

“Nope, it’s absolutely you. One hundred percent.”

And, he can do this with you–joke and tease and take it in stride. You’re different from everyone else. He’s cold and sharp toward his family, teammates, and classmates, barely civil to Yams. He supposes if he were to claim any others as friends, it might be Kuroo and Akaashi (Bokuto is just a little much, and Kei doesn’t have the energy to put up with that owl-eyed motherfucker for more than an hour at a time). 

But, they’re not the same as you. They don’t evoke anywhere near the same emotions in Kei, the same undying loyalty, the same cravings.

***

The two of you get closer during this volleyball hiatus. Of course, Kei is still allowed at games, though he has to sit in the stands like all the other fans. It’s okay, though, means he gets to be next to you, thighs pressed together, able to look at you whenever you jump to your feet and scream for Karasuno. Many people recognize him–the Crows have gained quite a reputation, after all, and Kei is sort of hard to miss in a crowd considering how tall he is. They ask why he isn’t down on the court playing, and he claims injury, just doesn’t specify that he wasn’t the one hurt.

It’s during a tournament that he finally pushes things with you an inch further. He’s peeved that he isn’t able to play in such a large (televised) setting, but he gets over it between sets after you leave for the bathroom. In your absence, someone takes your seat, and Kei argues with him for about two minutes before he realizes… This could work in his favor. 

When you return, shimmying your way between knobby knees and the balcony, you stop short, look at your now occupied seat, then to Kei who shrugs and says, “I didn’t feel like punching someone else. Just sit on my lap.”

You seem to consider it for a moment, apparently decide you’ve got no better option, then lower yourself right where Kei wants you most. You’re so warm and soft against him, legs spread with Kei’s between them. It leaves your feet dangling about an each from the concrete floor, fuck, it’s so adorable, he can’t help but lock his arms around your stomach, resting his chin on your shoulder.

And, you just… let him. Like, it’s no big deal. Like this is totally natural, sitting on your best friend’s lap while he thinks about anything and everything disgusting to keep himself from getting too _excited_ , but it gets infinitely more difficult when you begin to bounce in excitement at the sight of Hinata by the net, ready for anything Kageyama has for him, and you’re supple and basically grinding on Kei without even fucking realizing it, and he has to stop you before something mortifying happens.

Squeezing you a little tighter, Kei speaks into your ear, “You can’t do that.” You turn around, slightly confused, then go red when he elaborates, “I’m a _guy_.”

“Oh, right.” You bite your lower lip, duck your head, and mumble an embarrassed, “Sorry, Tsukki.”

He just rolls his eyes and sighs, thinks about his god damn grandmother in order to calm down.

After the match, the guy that took your seat smirks at Kei when you’re not looking, snorts out a knowing, “You’re welcome,” then gets lost in the crowd. 

After that day, Kei pulls you into his lap whenever he can, wherever he can. He loves your weight on top of him, the way you sink against his chest, and, barring school uniform skirts, you always sit in the same position–legs spread over his like a fucking invitation. Kei has to wonder if you even know what you look like to him and everyone else because this doesn’t just happen in the privacy of your homes. No, this is when you hang out with Kuroo and Kenma, or at after game parties. People nod in your direction and whisper, staring at the two of you.

This includes Yamaguchi. He can’t take his eyes off you, and it makes Kei smirk at him as he tightens his grip around your waist, talking right in your ear as he refuses to break his dark gaze with the other boy. Occasionally, he’ll run his nose up the side of your neck, pretend he’s just trying to tickle you (because it does), but in all honesty, he just likes how you smell and the way you squirm. 

Yams asks one evening after they’ve both walked you home (much to Kei’s annoyance).

“You and (Y/n) seem closer these days.”

Kei shrugs without looking up from his phone. “We hung out a lot while I was suspended.”

“Yeah, but it seems… different. Did anything… Did something happen between you? Like–”

“If you’re about to ask if we hooked up, don’t. It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Oh…” Yamaguchi looks down at his feet, and it doesn’t take more than a second for Kei to realize that the kid is disappointed. Because he thinks you slept with Kei.

Kei’s been a bit (a lot) of a sadist for a long time now, takes great pleasure in tearing people down whether they deserve it or not. Watching the way people like Hinata get so riled up, or the way first year girls get teary-eyed when he says just the right thing to bruise their self-esteem… It excites him in ways it shouldn’t. Seeing the dejected look on Yamaguchi’s face brings out that same feeling, and he can’t help but pour salt on his unwarranted wound, stating more than asking, “You have feelings for her.”

Yamaguchi’s head shoots up, eyebrows high on his forehead. “I–what? No, I just–” Kei’s own unimpressed expression must be enough to show he sees right through the other boy’s lies, and Yams sighs, admitting, “Yeah, I do. I have for a little while now.”

Sneering, Kei makes sure he’s absolutely clear when he tells him, “Before you make any kind of move, remember she was my friend first.” He knows it’s childish, knows he sounds like a kid fighting to keep his favorite toy, but Yams needs to fucking recognize.

“Is… that your way of calling dibs?” Yamaguchi frowns.

“Tch, no. You can try your luck if you want. You just need to realize that even if something does happen between you two, nothing is going to change between us.”

“O-okay, Tsukki.”

Kei eyes him in what Yamaguchi has to know is disdain, but he doesn’t say anything else, just pulls his headphones on over his ears and picks a playlist. 

That should take care of that. Yamaguchi has been intimidated by Kei since day one. There’s no way he’s going to try to pull something knowing that Kei doesn’t plan on backing off. He isn’t just going to give up his best friend because Yams thinks he deserves you. No, absolutely not. It’s bad enough he thinks he can get away with ogling you. Now he thinks he can ,i>date you? The little twerp shouldn’t even be breathing the same air as you.

***

You apparently don’t feel the same way as Kei, stupid bitch, but it isn’t until university that it’s made clear. At least you have the decency to look nervous when you break the news to him.

“I, um… I’m dating Yama,” you stutter, nibbling on your lip the way Kei loves so much.

He blinks at you, face impassive. Inside, he’s raging, fucking livid. He’s very tempted to hit you, open handed of course. His palm tingles with the need. Then, there’s another part of him that thinks he should just shove you down onto his bed, force your face in his pillows as he takes everything he’s wanted for the past several years. You would feel so fucking good writhing around beneath him, begging him to stop. It wouldn’t be as sweet as if you were willing, but… He could make do. He could still enjoy–

 _Stop. That is insane, psychopathic behavior._ He can’t just do something like that to you. The last thing Kei wants is for you to be scared of him. 

“Fine,” he utters. “For the record, I think you can do better.”

You huff out a laugh, trace invisible shapes on the floor until Kei pulls you between his legs like usual. Then, you’re smiling up at him, lips very close to his jawline, just a few inches from his own mouth. “I thought you might say that.”

“That means you probably feel the same way. On some level, at least.”

You avert your gaze back to the ground which is answer enough, yet you still deny it. “No. No, Yama’s nice. He’s… Good. For me. I think.”

Kei wants to argue, ask, _and I’m not?_ but you both know the answer to that. Fuck, he had a rape fantasy about you not thirty seconds ago. He can’t pretend he’s anywhere near a good person at this point, hasn’t been able to for a while actually. Because of you. How much he wants you.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “Nothing changes between us, though.” 

“Of course not,” you agree. “You’re still my best friend, Tsukki.” 

“I mean this.” He squeezes you for emphasis. “I’m not just gonna stop because you’re dating some loser.” 

You laugh quietly. “He’s not a loser. And, I didn’t expect you to. Plus … I don’t think I’d want you to stop, honestly. It’s just how we are, right?” 

“Right.” 

Kei buries his face in your neck then bites for good measure. 

And, you just play it off like you always do, act like it’s just fun between friends. 

***

It happens in the second year of college, the fantastic, mind-blowing, life-altering change.

You’ve been dating Yamaguchi for over a year now. As much as it infuriates Kei, he has to hand it to you; you refuse to let anything come between you and him. Not even when Yams mentions the fact that sometimes it hurts his feelings that you always sit next to/on top of Kei, or the fact that you have inside jokes that don’t include him, or that you spend almost as much alone time with Kei as you do with your freckled boyfriend. 

You make some half-assed apology, something along the lines of, “Sorry, baby, but it’s just how we’ve always been. You knew when we started dating.”

And, Kei loves it, fucking adores the way you brush the pathetic brat off and just get more comfortable in his lap, a Switch in your hands, legs draped over his, gently headbutting him when he makes some smartass comment about _maybe not putting the teacup ride right there_.

And Yams, the sorry son of a bitch, just lets the issue die. He keeps his mouth shut as he watches you interact with Kei, eyes traveling over your body, and Kei knows what he’s thinking, knows he wants to be in his place, feel you against him, run his hands up your smooth thighs. While Kei doesn’t do exactly that, he does hook his fingers in the hem of your shorts, grasping them like a security blanket. That’s what you are to him. You keep him safe and sane, and Yams can’t stand it. 

This is where the story really starts.

***

It’s at a party, of course, and Kei has you on his lap, of course, and, you’re a little drunk, _of course_. Yams is off talking to another volleyball player while the two of you take up a single cushion, nursing drinks in red solo cups. A song with a heavy bass line plays through the house, and what started as you just bobbing your head to the music has turned into you moving to the beat, a slight bounce and sway that has you pushing down on Kei in all the right places. His hands are on your hips because, yeah, he’s a little buzzed too and not about to miss this opportunity.

You never could resist a good song, especially now that you’ve finally decided to go into music engineering. You’re always piping up with, “Oh, did you hear that? That was a–” something that Kei doesn’t care to remember, and “God, I love that little arpeggio!” It would be annoying if it were anyone but you, but it _is_ you, so Kei just calls you a nerd and lets you continue.

Kei leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes going cloudy as you raise your hands in the air and roll your hips from side to side. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were doing this on purpose, but you’re a little on the _fucked up_ side, and it’s not like this is the first time it’s happened. He runs long fingers up your sides, the tickle of them getting you attention, and you look over your shoulder with a hooded gaze. 

“You know you look ridiculous, right?” Kei asks with a sneer. He doesn’t necessarily want you to stop, but he _does_ want the group of guys in the corner to stop fucking staring at you. 

You let out an indignant, _“Pffft,”_ take a swig of your drink, then stand up. That’s about the last thing Kei had wanted, but he puts on his mask of general annoyance rather than letting his true feelings show through, the ones that have him struggling to not reach out for you and tug you back into his lap, the ones that leave him wanting to lick the shell of your ear and slide his hand into your pants. You want to make a show of yourself for everyone to see? Oh, he can give them a fucking show. 

But, Kei just raises an eyebrow as he looks up at you. 

“Since when have I ever cared what people think of me, Tsukki?" 

You’ve got a point. Never in your life have you paid attention to any of the stares and whispers, and they occur fairly often. Kei isn’t sure if it’s because you’re gorgeous or because you only hang out with two other males, and from an outside perspective, it probably looks like you’re fucking both of them. Point is, people watch you.

Kei shrugs his shoulders. "Guess you’re right.”

“Course I am!” You smile crookedly, lean over Kei to peer into his almost-empty cup. The angle gives him a perfect view down your shirt, and he subconsciously licks his lips at the view of your cleavage. He could bury himself in your tits, has had many, many fantasies of sucking bruises onto the flesh, playing with rosy nipples until you’re writhing and begging, fucking right between–

“Tsukki,” you pipe up, clear your throat, and give him a pointed look when he meets your eyes. “Are you staring at my boobs?" 

"Yep,” he says shamelessly. They’re _right there_. How could he not? 

You roll your eyes, straighten up, but there’s a mischievous little smile on your face. “Ugh, you’re such a dude sometimes.”

“I’m a dude all the time, thank you very much, and for the record, this is not the first time I’ve stared at your chest.”

You gasp, a fake noise paired with a hand over your heart. “Why, I am absolutely scandalized!”

He’s got to admit, you’re taking the idea of your best friend checking you out much better than expected. That’s probably just it, though: Kei is your best friend. 

He squints at you, unimpressed, then pinches your thigh in a way that makes you squeal and hop away. 

“I was about to get you another drink, but you know what? Nevermind." 

Smirking, Kei watches as you walk away, admires the sway of your hips and the way your shorts hug your ass. One of these days… 

You return with two cups, of course–Kei knew that you would–and hand one to him with a little snort and a smartass, "Here you go, pervert.”

“You have no idea,” he says, pulling you back down, uncaring of the beer that sloshes over the rim of your solo. You’re facing him this time, eyes round, legs splayed on either side of him, and all Kei does is huff out a smug laugh and take a sip of his own drink. He’s tipsy and bold and wants you against him. This is something that Yams will get mad at if he sees, but Kei could not give a single shit, only concerned with the fact that you’re not moving off of him. Instead, you put a hand on his chest, fingers gripping the collar of his shirt–the one you love so much with the front pocket embroidered with a dinosaur. Kei tests a hand on your thigh, high enough to toy with the hem of your bottoms, and like that you just sit and stare. 

He’s pretty sure, in your inebriated state, he could get you to sleep with him, about 90%. You could play it off as two friends experimenting, having been so close for so long and letting curiosity get the better of you. You only prove his point further when another bass heavy song starts playing, and you start gently rocking on top of him, a sinful pantomime of what Kei really wants you to do. 

A fantasy of what it could be like dances through his mind, if only you were in a skirt, he could easily unzip his pants, would pull your panties aside and slide into you so, so easily. You could be his little cockwarmer until he decided to leave, perfect and tight and just for him, only for him, never for anyone else–

“What are you guys doing?" 

But then there’s Yamaguchi. 

You look up at your boyfriend, cheeks reddening like you got caught doing something wrong (you did), but answering simply, "Just talking.”

Yams frowns, stare traveling to Kei and narrowing. Kei fights a smile, but he knows his satisfaction is showing through in the way his eyes must shine and how he grips your hip a little tighter. 

The freckled boy sucks his teeth, glances away, then asks, “Well, seems like you guys are closer than ever, so you wanna go ahead and ask him about that thing, babe?” He definitely has an attitude, bitterness lacing each and every word, but Kei isn’t too worried–very intrigued, but not worried. 

“What thing?" 

You look from Kei to Yamaguchi who shrugs his shoulders and nods, then chew on your bottom lip, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious all of a sudden. You start off by clearing your throat, leading into, "So, Tadashi and I have been talking about, um…” you let out an embarrassed laugh, squeeze your eyes shut for a second. “We, uh, we’re kinda curious about, hm, threesomes…?”

Kei’s body erupts in fucking flames. He is hot all over, burning up, fever boiling his brain. Is he hearing this correctly? Are you actually suggesting–

“We thought maybe, um… You know, we both trust you, so–I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, but you were the first person to pop into my head, so.”

 _Your_ head. You and your pain in the ass boyfriend were discussing a possible third in the bedroom, and you immediately thought of him. Oh, this is too good. This is just too fucking good. Kei can only imagine what this is doing to Yamaguchi’s self-esteem, but Yams is too much of a pussy to argue with you, so he’s just going to let it happen. 

Kei is getting hard just thinking about it, both being able to fuck you and also the other boy’s resentment toward the situation. It’s everything Kei ever wanted, killing two birds with one stone. Fucking finally. 

He plays it cool, though, acts like it’s nothing when he intones, “I mean, I guess. I’m not gonna say ‘no’ to sex.” God, no, not with you, not when he’s been fucking dreaming of it for years now. Literally dreaming. He’s even woken up mid-orgasm before, shaking and swearing with thoughts of you in mind. 

Your hazy eyes get a little brighter at this, locked with Kei’s as you down a good portion of your drink. Yamaguchi falls into a vacant chair and scrubs a hand down his face, grumbling something to himself that Kei doesn’t care to make out. This isn’t about him, even if he will be joining in. It’s okay. Kei will just keep your attention on him. He’ll make sure you can’t pay attention to anything except for what he’s doing to you. 

Everyone finishes their drinks, and you slide off of Kei, swaying but not stumbling, then hold out both hands, one for him and one for your boyfriend, and like that, the three of you make the trek back to your small apartment. Kei almost wishes you’d all go to his just so he’d be able to lay in his bed and get lost in what’s sure to be a wonderful memory. He probably wouldn’t even change his sheets for a while. 

Unfortunately, Kuroo is there, so Kei will have to settle for your place and maybe just steal your panties afterward. Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last. 

As soon as the door is shut behind Yamaguchi, you’re on Kei with surprising fervor, standing on tip-toes and gripping his face as you force your mouth onto his a little harshly. He actually groans against you, immediately grabbing your ass and kneading it because fuck fuck fuck he’s wanted this for so long, and it’s so fucking good to have you this close, to lick you lower lip and shove his tongue into your mouth. He’s already panting, ribcage full of fluttering birds, head heavy with the blood pounding in his ears, and he doesn’t even acknowledge Yamaguchi who slides up behind you, doing god knows what Kei doesn’t even care because he’s focused so focused yet he can’t think straight because it’s too much fuck fuck–

You breathe into him, a whisper only Kei can hear, and it’s so honest and desperate, he knows it’s the truth. 

_“I want you, Tsukki. I want you so fucking bad.”_

His heart swells, body full of what feels like lava because you want him. You want to fuck him, want to take him, want to feel him inside of you, Jesus Christ, he could come just thinking about it. 

He grins into your kiss, all kinds of self-satisfied as he lets go of your ass and brings his hands up, up, until they wrap around your throat. All his fingers curl to the back of your neck save for his thumbs, both of which press lightly against your windpipe. Oh, he’d love to squeeze harder, watch your eyes roll into the back of your head as you twitch beneath him. He’d love to leave finger-shaped bruises, a collar of purple to mark you as his. 

But, he can’t, not yet anyway, because Yamaguchi is stepping back and urging both of you, “Come on, guys. Let’s go to the bedroom,” and Kei isn’t about to argue with that. 

The three of you make it to the back room, the one you share with Yamaguchi, and Kei is upset for about a nanosecond before he sees the worn stuffed animal right in the middle of the bed, that stupid triceratops Kei got you in high school. He didn’t know you had kept it all this time. 

You’re quick to remove it, of course, grabbing the plush and tossing it onto a nearby chair. You mumble an apology, slightly slurred, though Kei isn’t sure whether that’s from lust or the alcohol. He doesn’t really care, too busy ridding you of your shirt before Yams can even think to do it. The bra underneath is cute and probably very expensive–floral and lacy, and Kei salivates at the way the thin lining at the top looks against your skin. It’s delectable. It also needs to go.

This is when Yamaguchi inserts himself, reaching up to unclasp the garment from the back, then reaching around your front to cup each of your breasts. Kei wants to slap his hands away, use one of his long legs to kick the smaller boy back, but he doesn’t, just shrugs out of his own jacket and shirt before working at the buttons of your little shorts, shorts he’s been wanting to get into all god damn night. 

You lean back against your boyfriend as you toe off your slip ons then shimmy your hips for Kei to help him tug your bottoms down, and just like that, you’re completely bare.

“‘Scuse me. I can’t be the only fully naked person in the room,” you complain, turning in Yamaguchi’s arms and grabbing the hem of his shirt. It gives Kei a perfect view of your ass, and he’s stepping out of his own shoes and pants in record time, nearly tearing socks and underwear off as he goes. Rock hard and tingling with warmth, Kei presses himself against you, rubbing his cock against the small of your back as he grips your hips. Your body is so fucking warm and soft, and the way you push back to add pressure nearly has Kei drooling.

He really still cannot believe this is happening. 

Everything seems to speed up and slow down at the same time. Yams is undressed and you’re dropping to the floor, taking hold of both Kei and your boyfriend and pumping them with surprising coordination. Kei is breathless at the sight and feeling of it, groaning low in his throat when you dip forward to suck at his head.

“Fuck,” he swears, straightens up when he feels a large hand on his shoulder. Yamaguchi is leaning and bracing himself on Kei when you alternate, taking the other boy into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks. Kei shrugs him away, bites out a firm, “Don’t fucking touch me,” then tangles his hand in your hair.

“S-sorry– _mmygod_ , fuck, babe–” Kei hears you hum around Yamaguchi’s cock, decides it’s time to tug you off because he can fucking do that.

You whimper, letting your boyfriend drop from your mouth with a wet noise, and then you’re looking up at Kei with hooded eyes and swollen lips, and fuck he wants to cover your face in white, glue your god damn _eyes_ shut with his cum and make you clean him off with that wicked tongue of yours– 

Later.

For now, he pulls you up by your hair, relishing in your whimper that turns to a moan. Yams looks like he wants to say something, eyes going wide, but Kei shuts him up by giving him a pointed look and commanding, “Bed. Sit behind her and hold her legs open.”

Your expression turns dazed as Yamaguchi obeys, getting comfortable against the headboard and pulling you so that your back is against his chest. Kei kneels on the mattress, pushes your bent knees upward so that Yamaguchi can grab them.

Fuck, you’re a sight to see, spread wide open, plush thighs quivering. You’re blushing head to toe, chest heaving, nipples pebbled, the muscles of your stomach spasming as Kei runs a hand over them. He traces down soft skin, gently tickles your ribs to watch you squirm because when you do, your pussy clenches. It’s so beautiful, everything he’d hoped and more. You’re so pretty, already flushed with blood and desire, and when Kei spreads your lips apart, he’s greeted with smooth pink tissue and slick dripping out of your entrance. He doesn’t even think before dropping down to lay on his chest and shoving his face into your heat. 

You squeal, wriggle, then laugh. “K-Kei, fuck, your– _ha _–your glasses.”__

____

____

Right. He had forgotten about those, but he can’t imagine the plastic feels good digging into your flesh. Kei grunts, takes them off, then holds them up for someone to take, he doesn’t really care who. Then he’s back to devouring you–tongue tracing your folds, dipping inside, licking everywhere he can reach then pulling out to nip at the junction of your thigh and pelvis. 

You’re moaning and doing your best to roll your hips, but the way Yamaguchi is holding you keeps you more or less immobilized. All you can really do curl your toes as your legs shake. 

Kei hears smacking, glances up to find you and your boyfriend in a fierce lip-lock, can see your tongue making its way into his mouth. It burns him up inside, but there are ways to get you to break away from the freckled boy, ways to distract you, like Kei pushing a finger into you, his middle, all the way to his last knuckle, and yep, you break your kiss, throwing your head back against Yams’ shoulder as you pant.

“God, Tsukki–” his nickname sounds so good like that, husky and fuck drunk and just for him. Kei smirks into you, sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue back and forth. His face must be a mess at this point, wet with you, but he doesn’t care because you taste divine. He wants to lick every part of your pussy he can reach, coat his tongue with your juices and savor it because he’s wanted this for so long, has thought about it for so long, and now here he is, making you fall apart in your _boyfriend’s_ arms. 

You release something that sounds like a cry when Kei adds a second finger, finding that spongy spot and hitting it over and over again. The noises you’re making are obscene, the unintelligible words falling from your mouth as well as the wet sounds your cunt is making. Fuck, he could do this all night. It would be more than worth it just to keep experiencing this–this fucking _spiritual journey_ , god dammit, Kei can’t get enough, continues fingerfucking you even as your entire body tightens. You’re close. He can feel it in the way you clench around him, and it only encourages Kei. He’s methodical as he works your clit, and when you finally snap, he can feel pre-cum leak out of his cock, staining the sheets beneath him. 

“Oh, oh, fuck,” you whimper, pulsing with aftershocks until you’re hissing. “Shit, okay, too much, too mu–”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me,” Kei says in a flat voice, making sure to hit your sweet spot again for emphasis. You yelp, surging forward and reaching for him, but he bats you away, laving over your clit again. He’s pretty sure tears are forming in your eyes, but he can’t be positive, not without his glasses. 

You will be crying by the end of the night, though. That’s for sure.

Kei forces another orgasm out of you after a few minutes of meticulous stimulation, then he allows you to move. He laughs through his nose when you immediately launch yourself at him, pushing until he’s on his back and kissing him deeply while you grind your wet pussy over his length. You moan into his mouth, and Kei cracks an eye open, quietly seethes as he sees Yamaguchi line himself up with you. Your jaw drops when your boyfriend sheathes himself in you, and Kei takes the opportunity to shove two of his fingers into your mouth a little sloppily. It makes you gag, but you eventually close your lips around the digits, sucking dutifully while staring at Kei through thick eyelashes. 

He’s so hard it hurts, feels like he’s about to explode, so he takes matters into his own hands once again, tells Yamaguchi to scoot backwards then guides you down his body until you’re eye-level with his dick. Kei knows he’s fairly impressive, longer than most guys with a satisfying girth. It appears as though he meets your standards too because you look at him like you’re hungry for him.

Kei grins sideways, fists a hand in your hair and teases, “Wouldn’t have guessed you’d be such a little cockslut.”

Your only response is licking from the base of his dick to his tip, suckling at his head and lapping up more of the pre that’s gathered there. Rocking with Yamaguchi’s thrusts, you take Kei into your mouth, bobbing rhythmically and swallowing a little more every time until he’s nice and snug in your throat. 

“Oh, fuck,” he curses louder than he’d have liked, but you’re warm and wet and tight, the added pressure of swallowing threatening to milk him dry already. “ _Jesus Christ_ , where’d you learn to do that?”

“I taught her,” fucking Yams pipes up. Kei definitely wasn’t asking him, but then again, you’re a little too busy to talk. You flick your tongue back and forth on the underside of his cock, pulling a shiver from Kei. The way your eyes narrow tell him you’re trying to smile, but they shut tightly when he begins moving you up and down on his length. Your pace was cute, but it’s time to pick it up.

You do your best to breathe through your nose when you can, shoulders heaving whenever you gag. You’re taking it so well from both sides, and Kei contemplates telling you this, but at this point, you can probably barely process what’s going on. Yamaguchi is fucking into you steadily, gripping your hips and using them to pull you to meet him halfway. Meanwhile, Kei is holding your head in place as he pistons into your mouth. Strands of spit drip from your chin, and those tears Kei wanted to see are spilling over your eyes and down your cheeks. Your entire face is dark with exertion, hair sticking to it in some places until Kei smooths it out of the way. It’s a gentle gesture followed by a show of force when he slides as far into your throat as he can manage, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone. Kei’s fingers dig into your skull as he holds you in place, enjoying the way you start trying to pull back and look up at him in alarm when he doesn’t let you. 

You clutch the bedsheets tightly, then raise a hand to scratch at Kei’s thigh, and he watches as your eyes roll into the back of your head, body curling and writhing.

“Tsu–Tsukki,” Yamaguchi gains his attention, momentarily halting in his own efforts. “Shit, you’re being too rough! Let her go.”

Kei’s upper lip curls, but you _are_ starting to turn a little purple, so he pulls you off his cock. You suck in a ragged breath then cough, red eyes locked with Kei’s, and before Yamaguchi can get out the reprimand on the tip of his tongue, you pipe up in a hoarse voice, “I’m fine. I’m–” another cough– “I liked it.”

There is a monster inside Kei, a fucking demon that wants to prey on you, and it’s like you _encourage_ it. He thinks about your general air of innocence, how he’s wanted to ruin it for the better part of his life. That dream seems out of reach now, not because you’re not willing, but because… You’re not as pure as Kei originally thought you were. It’s slightly disappointing but also extremely satisfying, his angel-faced best friend turned cock-hungry slut. 

He can absolutely work with this. 

“Dashi, keep going,” you tell your boyfriend, unlocking your elbows so that you’re basically face down, ass up, sucking on Kei once again. He braces himself on one of his arms, pushing up to watch you suck him off, and what a view–cheeks hollowed, lips curled over your teeth, tits bouncing as Yamaguchi continues to fuck you from behind. Kei thinks that, in the right position, he’d be able to see your throat bulge with his cock. It’s an experiment for another day. For now he focuses on the way your moan vibrates around his cock when your quick-shot boyfriend begins a series of erratic thrusts, eventually pulling out to come on your back. 

Fucking amateur. 

As soon as the other boy finishes, Kei manhandles you until your hips are hovering over his. He tugs you down for a bruising kiss, one of his hands groping your chest. You tremble on top of him, keening when he rolls one nipple, then the other, and arching when he pinches harshly. 

“Ah, _god!_ ”

“Kei’s fine,” he quips. It’s cliche, but it’s easy, and the way you roll your eyes and shove his face to the side is amusing. 

“Asshole.”

He angles himself so that the tip of his dick brushes over your slick folds, gathering fluid, and he’s so fucking glad Yams didn’t actually come inside you because now Kei won’t get sick at the thought while fucking you. 

You sink down just enough to envelope his head, clenching around it in a way that makes Kei suck in a sharp breath. Oh, he’s going to lose his mind. He’s floating somewhere between fantasy and reality, the gravity of the situation crashing down on him all over again because this is _you_ , his best friend and lifelong love. He’s been obsessed for ages, dreaming about what it would feel like to finally get his hands on you, and now as you drop yourself lower and lower, Kei finds it’s like a fucking religious experience. Everything about you is perfect, from your fingernails digging into his shoulders to the way your greedy pussy just makes room for Kei. He’s bigger than Yams, he knows, and you’re probably getting sore from overstimulation, but you just _keep going_ , taking all of his length until Kei bottoms out, pretty sure he’s nestled right against your cervix because how could he not be at this point. 

“Oh… my god,” you choke out, face screwing up as you try to get adjusted. Kei bounces you gently just for shits and giggles, just to watch your jaw drop and hear the noise you make. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful–wrecked and sweaty and his. 

He’s vaguely aware of Yamaguchi sliding off the bed but doesn’t pay him much attention, wouldn’t be able if he wanted to once you start moving. You lift yourself slowly then drop down in an experimental fashion, and Kei lets you do it a few more times before he takes control, fucking up into you and watching the way your chest moves with each of his thrusts. Raising your arms, you tangle your hands in your own hair, snapping your hips and moaning when Kei’s dick rubs against your g-spot. You’re frantic with it, riding him recklessly as your eyebrows knit together in concentration. You’re ready to get off again. Kei can help you with that.

He manages to roll so that he’s on top, pulls out and stands at the edge of the bed, pulling you toward it and plunging back inside of you. The new position lets him drive in with more force and hits that sensitive tissue every time. You swear and shake and grapple for anything to hold onto, something that might ground you. Kei grabs both of your hands as he leans over, fingers lacing together, and it makes you open your eyes, bloodshot and glossy and swirling with lust. Kei can’t look away, wants this image burned into his brain and wishes the same for you. He will never forget this, and he’ll be damned if he lets you. 

Your lids begin to close as you get lost in sensation once again, but Kei lets go of one of your hands in order to grab your face, his voice low when he demands, _“Look at me._ ”

You do, eyes going wild when Kei drags his hand down your body, dipping his thumb into your hole to wet it before using it to massage your clit. The way you squeeze his cock is heavenly, your muscles spasming as he rubs circles over the engorged bundle of nerves. He can tell when your gaze shifts out of focus, your body beginning to go slack as it’s overwhelmed, but Kei pulls you out of whatever space you’re about to fall into by slipping out briefly and slapping your pussy, shoving fingers inside once again and shaking you like a fucking puppet. 

“Kei, please,” you beg, and it’s like music to his ears. “Please please please.”

He makes a point of sounding bored when he asks, “What?”

“I need–I need–” your words are thick and slurred, and tears are running down the sides of your face again, eventually flowing into your hair. 

“What could you possibly need?” He questions darkly. “You’ve already come twice." 

He grins sardonically when your chest heaves with a genuine sob. Has he really drawn this out so long that it’s hurting you? Or, are you just desperate and greedy? 

Either way, Kei would like to watch you break again, shatter beneath him like the fragile doll you are. 

"P-please, Tsukki…" 

He rolls his eyes, replaces his fingers with his cock once again, then wipes his hand on your face. Picking up where he left off, Kei presses down on your clit, enjoying the sharp yell the new pressure causes, then wraps his other hand around your neck. Your eyes immediately roll back, a very interesting reaction, and he feels your moan in his palm when he tightens his grip. 

Fuck, he’s going to have so much fun with you. Maybe not tonight but definitely in the future. 

Heat coils deep inside Kei’s body, settling low in his gut as he feels the familiar tightening that points to one thing: impending release. He strokes your clit in time with his thrusts, wants to feel you climax before getting hit with his own, and you don’t let him down. Kei watches as you seize up, gasping through nonsense words, and then your pussy is pulsing around him, soft walls squeezing Kei in just the right way that his vision whites out for a moment, nothing but static in his head, and it doesn’t even occur to him to pull out when he starts coming, just spills his load deep inside you. 

You ride your orgasms out together until Kei is left with nothing but aftershock twitches and you’re left with a pussy full of cum. That is a satisfying thought, and when Kei pulls out, he bites his lip at the white dribble that follows him, taking special care to push as much back inside you as he can manage, his long fingers stirring your insides until he has no doubt they’re saturated with him. 

And you just lay and take it, legs spread wide, eyes dark and on him like you want it, like you’d take more if you could. Give him a few minutes, and he knows he’d be able to pump another load into you, but for now…

"You’re a fucking mess,” he tells you as he straightens up and stretches. 

You hum, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “And whose fault is that?" 

Kei matches your sideways grin, leans down at the same time you rise up to your elbows, and you meet in a scalding kiss, tongues in each other’s mouths, dirty hands in damp hair, and it’s different this time because it’s over. You’re finished fucking. Everyone has gotten theirs, but you still kiss him. You still suck on Kei’s lower lip and giggle when he growls at you, and then, in a nearly inaudible whisper, you tell him, "I needed that. Thanks, Tsukki." 

He nods, silent for once in his life, and rests his forehead against yours. Any time. You can have him at any time. 

You both break apart at the sound of footsteps, Yamaguchi entering the room holding two washcloths. Kei hadn’t even noticed the other boy had left. He’s also already in boxers again, hair wild and sleepy-eyed as he hands one of the white rags to Kei then gently pushes him back and away from you, oh he could kill him kill him _kill him_ –

Yamaguchi is all soft touches and quiet reassurances as he cleans you up, murmuring something about how he’s not mad about the cum on the bed–his own fault for finishing on your back, come on–or the fact that you let Kei finish inside. 

So, he wasn’t supposed to do that. If Kei was a better person, he might feel bad, but he isn’t, so he doesn’t. 

But also, how fucking pathetic can someone get? You and Yamaguchi obviously discussed this little escapade prior to it happening. Kei is willing to put money on the other boy’s stipulation being not allowing Kei to come inside you. But, you still let him, whether it was because you were too caught up in your own orgasm or because you just didn’t care, Kei isn’t sure. 

Kei watches you as he cleans himself off, the way Yams whispers sweet nothings into your ear and strokes up and down your side. You’re not even paying attention to your boyfriend, though. No, while you may have a lazy grip around his waist, your tired eyes are glued to Kei, glassy and bloodshot from crying. It’s a good look. Kei commits it to memory as he begins moving around the room, pulling his clothes back on. 

"Well, this has been fun,” he says, bending to pick up the pair of silky panties he tugged off of you earlier. Yams has his back to him, but you’re still staring, lips parting as if to say something when Kei dangles the skimpy article in show before shoving them into his jacket pocket. 

You stay quiet–always so quiet for him. Always so good for him. 

“I’ll text you,” he tells you plainly, then pats Yamaguchi’s shoulder in a patronizing manner. “Later, cuck.”

It isn’t until Kei is walking out of the apartment that he hears Yams’ unsure voice, “Did he just call me a cuck?”


End file.
